Have you ever lunched/dined out with that remarkable species on earth - the insatiable, ravenous, voracious, mindblowingly incredible, true-blue Punjab da puttar? No? Count your blessings then. Yes? Pat... no, thump yourself several times on the back, 'cause you've come out of the tribulation alive and have survived to see another meal - a humbler version of course, the kind that befits the average homosapien. It may not mean such a great deal for the more piggish kinds out there who impulsively develop multi-appetites (and consequently, multi-tiered bellies) at the mere glimpse or scent of food - the ones who can down the entire menu in one tremendous gulp; BUT to a barely-there, gangling, tweedy weed like yours truly, the sight of an acre-wide dining table grandly laid out in its full, leg-wobbling glory makes me weep, even furiously chanting silent prayers in yesterday's case, because it may have very likely been *My* Last Supper.
Goosebumps. I have several of them now. Its all replaying in super-slow-mo in my mind. The said Punjab da puttar thundering in a guttural voice - 'AUR LAO!!!' and Auntyji running... no, flying to the rescue - like a Goddess with several arms - each bearing a dish more sumptuous, more greasy and more fattening than the other; she apparitating in front of my pleading (for no more) self, and again, like a Goddess that is mighty pleased with her disciple, bestowing more of the dreaded, sinful stuff on my quivering plate, meanwhile beaming a splintering smile that is akin to a thousand arrows puncturing my feeble body; what's left of it atleast. My stomach's at war by now, my mouth is so stuffed that no requests for mercy are able to escape it and my brow is lined with fine sweat; while Auntyji is on a blitzkrieg of sorts - serving scoops and mega scoops of her largesse (both food and that smile.... oh that wicked, wicked smile), making me fervently wish I was stranded in the bleak Saharan desert instead. As if in endorsement, my stomach gives a low rumble now. In testament to all the wadis, dhoklas, 3 tiered rasmalais, pistachio cookies, dry fruits, crispy veggies with schezwan sauce, veg seekh kababs, paneer manchurians, paneer makhanwaalas, dal fries, aloo parathas and veg kadais that I downed yesterday, ALL within a tormenting span of 2 hours. Burrrrrp. Its a record of sorts for me. Something I can brag to my grandchildren about.
HOW does one eat so much? And make it look SO easy at the same time? I mean, you can't have bottomless pits for stomachs, can you? The said puttar, his wife, his son and the latter's wife - all fine Punjabi folks - the most amiable, genial, gregarious and friendly lot that I have EVER come across (they can even make a grumpy bear feel at home) - they have appetites the size of the Himalayas (they mauled the ENTIRE menu), while mine huffs and puffs its way to a measly 10% of theirs. The said hosts looked down at me with the slightest hint of pity, making it a mission of sorts to kinda beef me up before I leave their abode. They tried their best to stuff me, and were wildly successful too, obedient child that I am. But whatever aspirations they had to land a spare tyre on my belly, it failed. The waiflike Avanti reigned supreme and still does, neither lard nor fibre able to flab her up. In the case of my well-meaning, generous hosts, the food always wins, while for moi - it is always me thoroughly beating the food by a couple of miles any given day! So go ahead Auntyji, beat that! Or should I say, catch me if you can! ;)
